It's Not So Simple (But Yet It Is)
by Pinlicous
Summary: Sam and Dean both hold the same secret, but neither of them knows how easy it would be to just say what's up already. Several key moments pass before, finally, Sam has had enough. Pre-series weecest.


**Author's Note **Well, alright then. This was a long time in the making, hardly easy, and still somewhat crappy, in my opinion. Ah, well. I still, secretly, kind of like it.

Prompt courtesy of xsnappapplex via tumblr,

* * *

_Objects of the heart cannot easily be described. As difficult as it is to describe them, it is equally irritating to deny them._

[*]

It was a typical night alone for the Winchester boys; Their father was out on a hunt and wouldn't be back until later that week. They were alone in a dark hotel room, only a couple's suite had been available due to some dumb ass wedding shit, or whatever. Well, it didn't really matter to them, though. They had spent a good fifteen years of their lives sleeping in the same bed. So what if Sam had recently gotten too big for sharing a bed comfortably?

_So what?_ The fact that Dean was horny for his brother was what.

Dean was scared. For the first time, despite the numerous other occasions he'd slept in the same bed as his brother, Dean was afraid to lay down next to him. The situation was almost enough for Dean to just say "the hell with it" and jump his brother, scare him off, and make him sleep on the floor. But Dean couldn't. He didn't know if he could let Sam go after having a taste of his sinful obsession.

"What are you looking at?" Sam complained, lowering the book he was reading to his knees. His legs were curled up to his chest, somehow defying human anatomy, or something like that.

_Seriously, how could he get comfortable like that?_

Most likely, Dean had been staring at him. He always stared at Sam.

"'S nothing."

"Whatever."

"Whatever."

That night was the first time Dean masturbated to his brother's slow, easy breaths.

[*]

Months later Sam and Dean were on their own case. Dad had informed it was an easy salt and burn case and the boys needed to get used to soloing hunts. Sam hated it; Dean loved it.

"Come on, Sam! Our own solo case. No orders, no rules. We use our own heads and hands."

Sam stared out the window, grinding his teeth. He wanted to scream at something, but Dean wasn't at fault. It was their father's stupid idea.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

"You're my only back up, Sammy..." Dean said softer, reaching his hand across the space between them and settled on Sam's shoulder. The unspoken "_And I'm glad it's you, wouldn't have picked a better partner_" was the only thing that took the anger away from Sam.

Sam held his breath for every second of contact they had. He closed his eyes, staving off the thoughts he wanted so desperately to act on.

_I could just reach over, tug the steering wheel, and pull us off into the shoulder. I could grab you tight while you yelled at me and smother your obscenities with my tongue._

"Okay." He choked out.

If Dean noticed the shaky breaths Sam was letting out, he didn't say anything.

Maybe he knew.

Maybe he didn't.

[*]

Dean was cut up and bruised, dirty as the ground he walked on. Sam was at his side, bumping into his good shoulder.

"Damn vengeful spirits, huh?" He tried to joke, but Sam's lips were in a taught line and his bitch face wasn't anywhere near humorous.

"Dad should've looked closer into it," Sam said angrily once they were inside their hotel room.

"Nobody's perfect, Sammy. Even Dad."

"Yeah, well, when your kids' lives are on the line, it's a little important to know what the hell you are up against."

"Sam, knock it off. We're alive, aren't we? Just let it go."

Sam yanked his duffel back out from under his bed and started ripping through it. When he didn't say anything else, Dean knew better than to push it.

Dean walked up behind him, leaving several feet between them.

"Hey..."

"Shut up, Dean. Go take your damn shower."

Sam spun around on his heel and knocked shoulders with Dean on his way over to the small table provided by the room. It was Dean's bad shoulder. The one he nearly dislocated when the spirit drug him off into it's abnormally deep grave.

_I know what it feels like to worry about you, Sammy, but..._

"Sorry, I-"

"'S okay."

They locked eyes for a minute and Dean had to look away. His chest clenched up and all he could do was take Sam's advice. He fled to the bathroom and took an hour long shower, using up all the hot water.

He jerked off harder than he had ever before, letting the filthy thoughts of Sam run through his head. The images where vibrant yet dark. Sam on his belly, over the Impala, in the Impala's back seat, in the shower next to him now. As he came he pressed his body close to the cool shower wall, biting his knuckle and hopeful for secrecy.

[*]

It was Sam's birthday. There was no cake, no presents, no friends. They didn't celebrate, they didn't talk. They just sat there, backs facing each other as they lounged around on their beds.

Sam was sixteen now. He'd grown another few inches and his body filled out. His flat stomach had etched into slightly more defined abs. He was still lanky, still awkward, but he knew girls looked at him differently. He saw his brother's gazes, too. He wanted them to mean something. He wanted to make Dean feel like he could take anything he wanted from Sam.

Sam's hormones were out of whack and there was no other way to explain that. His feelings for his brother were growing harder and harder to repress. He was dying to touch his older brother every second of every day. He wanted to take everything. It wasn't enough that they were just brothers. It had to be more. Sam wanted everything.

Sam didn't take a damn thing.

[*]

"Come on, Princess. Time to get out of the shower. God, do you enjoy being pruned as hell, or what?"

"Shut up, Dean."

"Hurry it up. Dad'll be back soon. We gotta-"

"- be ready for him or else he'll have our hides," Sam imitated his brothers voice mockingly, pushing the bathroom door open. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it a thousand and one times already."

"Well, then stop making me have to repeat myself, bitch."

"Whatever you say, jerk."

[*]

Dean held his breath. He couldn't breath with Sam so fucking close up to him.

Dean suppose this was his fault, though he'd probably never admit it to Sam. He had tried to hustle pool for some extra cash, but no one would bite. They were low on funds thanks to Dean's inability to _not_ drink and pick up chicks, Dad was no where to be found, and they were tired as shit. They had to get a single.

"Stop hogging the covers," Sam complained sleepily, pulling on his portion of them. Dean pulled back as soon as his side became colder from lack of sheets.

"You're the one hogging, them."

"No, you just don't know how to sleep in a bed with someone else."

"Whatever. You're just too fucking huge."

"Whatever."

"Whatever."

"I already said that."

"You copied me first."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Princess."

"Man whore."

"Giganto."

"Midget."

"Alright, that's it!"

Dean jerked himself to face Sam's back and started tugging at his sheets. Soon, Sam was made up in a nice blanket burrito and he struggled to get out of it.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"You're just a whiny little bitch, you know that?"

Dean was wearing his best smirk while he held Sam down. Sam was thrashing around, bumping his hips up into Dean's crotch unintentionally and it shouldn't have turned him on so much. He leaned in, face close to Sam's.

"Beg for it."

Sam's face went hot and flushed, but it was hard to see in the darkness. Dean could hear him gulp, however, and it was enough to know he was winning.

"Make me," Sam countered after a few minutes of silence. Dean was honestly taken aback. He also wasn't very sure if this was going to end well.

A staring contest seemed to have begun then, but neither of them had to really say so out loud to know the stakes were high.

"You totally blinked."

"Did not, Dean."

"Did, too, Samantha."

"Shut up," Sam whined. Fucking whined.

Sam had taken advantage of his brother's surprise and rolled them over. Sadly, they already had been pretty close to the edge of the bed and Sam didn't exactly have a lot of available grip, so they ended up on the floor. Sam was still under Dean, as it turned out, but Sam had hit his head pretty hard on the night stand and Dean wasn't playing around anymore.

"Hey, you okay?"

Sam nodded, wincing when a start of a headache crept up in the back of his skull. Dean unwrapped his poor victim and placed a gentle hand to the back of Sam's head, cradling it while checking for any injuries.

Sam caught his breath and looked up into Dean's eyes. Despite the lack of lighting, they seemed to protrude through the darkness. Their green glow mesmerized him, keeping him still, yet shaky at the same time.

"I'm okay," Sam assured, though his breath was uneven and heavy.

"Sammy," Dean sighed, unable to help himself. His heart was trying to pop out of his chest, he could feel it. He was seconds away from just cutting through his chest and letting it escape. Maybe that is something he should've done a long time ago.

But that option was out of the window the moment Sam closed his eyes and started inching toward his face.

Of all the times to doubt the things he wanted, this was _obviously_ the best time to do so. He swallowed hard and pushed away, staggering for balance. Sam grunted from the lack of pressure on his chest and his eyes flew open.

Dean was gone, out the door in a second flat.

Sam cried silently. He didn't care if he looked like a total drama queen.

Nothing mattered now that he knew, for absolutely fucking sure, he'd fucked everything up for good.

[*]

"Sam?"

Sam turned to face his brother. Finally, he had grown enough to become eye level with him. Finally, he could stand tall, let himself feel the courage he needed.

"I have to leave."

Sam's duffel bag was hung over his shoulder and it looked heavy. Everything he owned was packed into it.

Dean's face went serious and he closed the door behind him.

"You're not going anywhere, Sam. That's-"

"You can't tell me what to do anymore, Dean. I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

"Well, I'm not letting you make a stupid one and that's for damn sure. Unpack your shit, 'cause you're not leaving this room 'til you get your head on straight."

Sam grunted and dropped his bag. He took several steps forward and closed the gap between them. Dean threw the first punch. Sam didn't start fighting back. He let Dean wail on him, only allowing a short gasp of air fly out his mouth as his back hit the hard, wooden floor of the abandoned house they were held up in.

"You can't leave me. I won't let you."

Dean was rambling as his fists meet Sam's face. Hard, rough, unforgiving, but sincere. He was crying. The tears from his cheeks dropped to Sam's face and played as hot counterpoints of focus, drowned out the pain of each blow and gave him an intense heat in the pit of his stomach. He reached up and took a hold of Dean's wrists.

Dean was plaint. Easily taken over. His tears came faster and hotter. They didn't stop. Sam knew they wouldn't stop.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam whispered even though he knew exactly how _not_ okay it was. He knew Dean felt empty and worn out and how he would feel if the one constant (more constant then their own father) in his life left.

Dean shook his head like a child, sucking snot back up into his nose. He hiccuped once, twice, and then shut his eyes tightly. Sam leaned up, letting go of Dean's hands in favor of propping himself up. Their chests were barely touching, but it was enough to excite them both.

"It's me, isn't it?" Dean gasped, nearly letting out a sob. "I'm sick, I know, but I can change. I promise I'd never-"

"Shh, Dean."

Sam's hand cupped his brother's cheek as his thumb ran over Dean's lips. Dean opened his eyes and the beautiful emerald color was dulled with fear and sadness. Perhaps slight confusion and uncertainty welled up with the tears.

And Sam got it then. It clicked into place. All the stolen looks and quick glances all added up. They weren't figments of his imagination or desperate images that procured false hopes in his gut.

"You were scared..." Sam finally said, huffing air out of his mouth. It blew across Dean's face and he shivered. "You were just scared."

Dean knew what he meant. The night when he ran out of the hotel room to go find some pretty brunette. He'd said it out right that it was for someone else. That he just needed a release and he'd damn well _pay_ if he had to. She took it well enough. She allowed him to straddle her back, sucked on his fingers roughly. She even let him call her "_Sammy_" without a question or concern.

She wasn't enough. Never was any woman enough.

"Don't leave me, please..."

Dean never begged. Dean never let himself berate the Winchesters' name that way. That made it so god damn real, Sam could hardly take it. He pushed Dean backward and helped to unfold his legs. Straddling him, he ducked his head in and stole a kiss. This time, he didn't hesitate, didn't allow Dean the time to run away. It was close-mouthed and chaste, barely even there, but it was enough. It was Dean's lips on his and it was mutual and it was amazing. It was liberating. The heavy clench on Sam's chest lightened at the gasp his brother made and then it re-tightened at the grind of their hips.

"God, Dean..."

"Sammy... Sammy, please."

Sam wasn't entirely sure if Dean was asking for permission to enjoy it, asking him to do something, or asking him to stay. He was sure all three _must_ have been requested simultaneously.

"Yes," He breathed, rocking his hips downward. Dean's hand's flew to his biceps and tugged him over, rolling them so Dean was topping again. "God, yes. Anything you want..."

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he surveyed the scene in front of him. His little brother's lips were parted, pink tongue poking out just slightly. His half-lidded, hazel eyes were blown with lust. His freakishly long hair had gotten messy from the tangle and a ping of guilt set in Dean's lower belly as his eyes traveled along the light bruises on Sam's face. The bruises wouldn't last longer than a few days, but it's the reason's behind them that Dean couldn't quite swallow.

"Sam, I- Just, if you don't want this... tell me to stop, okay?"

Sam's smile was blinding and it took Dean's breath away. The lack of oxygen was almost unsettling.

"How about 'go'?"

That brought the smirk out of Dean and he started forward, captured his brother's lips in one of the most heated kisses Dean had ever participated in. It had been sloppy and wet and borderline gross, but it had been Sam.

_Sam._

"Dean," Sam moaned, hips canted upward. Dean met his upward thrusts and they both groaned into each others' mouths.

"God, Sammy..."

Their shirts had nearly been torn off each other, but neither of them put much thought into how desperate that made them seem. Zippers unzipped and pants slid down thighs, taking boxers along with them. It had been mostly skin on skin now and both of the boys were too far gone to loose any more clothing.

Softly, Dean's hands cupped Sam's face, tipped it back to allow for hotter kisses. They descended from there, down over his shoulders and over his collar bones. His fingers brushed over Sam's nipples, pebbling them. Sam gasped while Dean chuckled. He back tracked, tweaking them gently. Then, his mouth followed the path of his hands, pressed searing kisses on every available surface on the way. His lips settled on Sam's right nipple. He sucked it and his hands curved around from Sam's stomach to his back when his little brother's back arched up from the floor. He kissed his way to the other one, treating it just as gently as the previous. Sam was kneeing now, gasping softly and murmured for more.

Dean's hand moved back downwards, dipped in the bowl of Sam's hips. He teased, coming within inches of what mattered most to the horny boy below him, only to direct his attention elsewhere. Finally, after countless whines and jerks of Sam's hips, Dean curled his fingers softly around Sam's dick. Dean swiped his thumb over the tip of Sam's cock and Sam's head flew back with a small thug.

"God!"

Dean chuckled in response while he bit small bruises into Sam's collarbone. They'd be hidden there. Only Dean would know why and how they got there. That only turned him on _a little_.

"Do that again," Sam begged thrusting his dick back into Dean's hand. Dean followed through with it, sliding his thumb over the slit again. Sam's hands gripped onto Dean's shoulders and pulled him down. Their chests were flush, pushing air into each others' lungs while simultaneously pushing air back _out_ of their lungs.

"God, Sammy... So fucking good for me, Sammy," Dean babbled, barely audible, but still turned Sam on. He didn't think he'd like that sort of porn star-esque jabbering, but it came from Dean. Meaning Dean was enjoying it. He wanted this. He was giving it to Sam and Sam was trying hard to give it back just as much.

"D-Dean- you, too..."

"Okay, baby, okay."

Dean let up on Sam only enough to fit Sam's huge hand in between them. Dean's member was thick and hard, even a little heavier than Sam would've imagined. He liked it, though, feeling the precome-smooth skin under his palm.

"God, Dean."

Most of the talking was slurred after that, mere mumbles of pleasure and the occasional gasp for air as their lips parted. But the silence only made it easier to hear these things, made it easier to turn them both on with it. It was hot and slippery and so god damn_ perfect_.

They came in near unison, only moments after the other. Their orgasms were fierce and drawn out, both hands pumping them through it long after it was done. They only let up when the oversensitive skin became too much to bare. Sam's hand settled back beside himself while Dean's laid flat beside Sam's head. Dean laid his head onto Sam's chest, hearing as well as feeling the hard _thud thud thud _of Sam's heart against his chest. It slowly dissipated into a soft, slow melody and it threatened Dean's consciousness a little too much.

But, before Dean could lift himself off his brother, he had to know this wasn't the last time he'd be able to be so close to him. He had to make sure Sam was okay and that he wouldn't run away. At least, not run because of this. His other reasons- if there were any- could be dealt with later.

"We, uh- we good?" He whispered just loud enough for Sam to hear.

The lax moment of silence drew every horrible thought out in the open and Dean started to panic. The idea of it all seemed lame and over-thought once the small rumble of Sam's chest proved otherwise.

"We are more than good, Dean," He whispered back, cupped the back of Dean's head affectionately. "Didn't coin you as a cuddlier, though."

"Ah, shuddup," he replied automatically, but his laugh gave him away.

It would be alright. Everything would change, yet nothing would change. They'd be happy and they'd have just about every inch of each other to explore in the meantime.


End file.
